


Fight For Your Right (To Sing)

by eledhwenlin



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-28
Updated: 2011-05-28
Packaged: 2017-10-19 21:30:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/205410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eledhwenlin/pseuds/eledhwenlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon's always fighting with his parents these days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight For Your Right (To Sing)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the _domestic abuse (emotional)_ square on my [hc_bingo card](http://eledhwenlin.dreamwidth.org/619690.html).
> 
> Thanks to jamethiel for the beta. All remaining mistakes are my own.

Brendon's quiet at dinner and, given by how many complaints he's gotten over the years you'd think nobody would mind. Actually Brendon would enjoy it very much if he could get through one meal with his family without being the center of the attention. He feels spread thin: he's so exhausted his mind is sluggish and he still has to work on his English essay, which is due on Monday. But if he wants to go to practice tomorrow, he needs to have it finished by morning. It's already half past seven, it's going to be eight by the time they'll have finished eating and tidied up, which leaves him with maybe two hours for the essay. Ryan gave him some notes for _Relax, Relapse_ last week which Brendon hasn't had time to look at in detail yet. Brendon's trying to figure out whether he can get away with reading them on the ride over to their practise room (he knows Spencer won't mind, that Spencer can't mind even, because this time it's Spencer's fault that they are practising on a Friday, which is unusual enough) when he realises that, of course, everyone is giving their full attention to Brendon tonight, when he really doesn't want it. He forces himself to sit upright, ignoring his tired muscles protesting the effort.

"Brendon, are you all right?" His mother looks at him with worried eyes and the thing is, Brendon knows that his parents mean well. He freaking knows, but it doesn't help him any. He just manages a nod and a weak smile. "Yes, I'm just a bit tired tonight." He wishes they'll drop it. They don't.

His father hums and exchanges a glance with his mother. This can't mean anything good. Brendon steels himself for ... fuck, he doesn't know. He's already going to seminary every morning before school to appease them, he's going to Church every Sunday, he's going to meetings with his bishop and the youth club on Saturday and Wednesday night, he's working on his homework and turning in everything on time, he's doing all the chores they set him, even the ones that are so obviously just meant to keep him at home (seriously, cleaning the attic?). He does it all without complaining, so he can go to band practice twice a week. Ryan's mad at him since he almost never can make their Saturday practice and Brendon's pretty sure that it's only because of Spencer taking Ryan aside and explaining stuff that Brendon's still in the band. More often than not he has to ask Brent or Spencer for a ride because his parents won't let him have the car for whatever contrived reason and Brent's already started joking about collecting gas money from Brendon. These are the only friends Brendon has and he misses them. He can hardly spend any time outside of practice with them because his parents keep setting his curfew earlier and earlier and short of cutting practice short (which only Spencer can actually ask of Ryan without being immediately shot down) Brendon has to basically run out of their practice room and whoever gave him a ride also has to leave early. Spencer's often trying to get Brent to drive Brendon home, even if he gave him a ride to practice, and Brendon knows that Ryan's Spencer's best friend, but it still hurts. He feels lost and unimportant and he's just so tired all the time. Brendon can't imagine what they want of him now. He sits still, holding his breath, and braces himself.

"Your mother and I are worried about you." His father has put his cutlery aside and is looking intently at Brendon. "These days you are hardly laughing anymore. You used to be such an energetic and happy kid. Now you're yawning all the time, and you're just not yourself." It's all because of you, Brendon wants to scream. These are your rules and your chores and your appointments. But he doesn't say anything, can't, because then they'll just look at him again with sad, disappointed eyes and that would hurt even more.

Brendon hates disappointing everyone, his parents, his band, and so he keeps on going. Quietly he thinks to himself, at least his band doesn't exploit this weakness of his. Okay, maybe Ryan is, but he wants Brendon to sing those songs the best way he can. He wants their band to succeed and this at least is one goal Brendon shares with him. His parents' life goals are not for him--Brendon's figured that one out years ago.

"We think you should quit the band." Brendon can't breathe. It took them months to get to this point, weeks of careful arrangements, of his parents cutting his privileges (free computer use became one hour daily became one hour if he finished all his tasks, became one hour for both school tasks and free use became one hour for school tasks only became one hour with one parent supervising him) and deciding over Brendon's life.

But they haven't ever touched the issue at hand before--everything was centred around the main problem of Brendon being in a band. His parents, however, never told him outright to quit. They looked at him, made disappointed noises, exchanged worried looks, chipping away at Brendon's resolve one day at a time, taking away all his other things, but never this. Brendon thinks they might be really desperate now if they have to resolve to this.

"No." Brendon's as surprised as his parents when he speaks, but ... no. He's done so much to get this far. He gets up at 5 a.m. every morning and stays up late trying to do all his homework and his chores. He's worked so hard to have his band and it's the only reason why he still gets up in the morning. Brendon's been afraid of drawing this line because he doesn't know where they'll go from here. But he can't give up his band. He can't.

And there they are. His mother's big sad eyes and Brendon feels like crying. His father is openly disappointed, not looking at Brendon at all, and although this was just what he'd wished for at the beginning of their meal, being ignored and disregarded cuts deep. Rationally Brendon knows they just want to make him give in and he wants to, but. His band. His _friends_. Of all of them only Spencer has managed to charm Brendon's parents. Brendon supposes that he might be allowed to have Spencer over once in a while, but Spencer has _Ryan_ and. Brendon's not sure if Spencer wants to. If Brendon loses his band, he loses the thing he loves most, his friends, everything. He can't give in.

The weight on his shoulders is almost unbearable now that he has to face his parents' open disappointment again. He feels crushed under all his obligations. Brendon doesn't realise he's crying, only notices when he wants to speak and can't. It's just. He's tired and worn down and deep down he can't understand why his parents can't just see that the band is not the source of all evil. Brendon would really like someone to hug him now, but it doesn't seem likely. His father's eating silently and his mother looks sadly at her plate, knife and fork gripped tight. She prods her food, like she can't decide whether to eat or let it be, and her voice is quiet, hollow even, as she speaks. "Perhaps it's better if you go upstairs to your room now and rethink your decision."

He gets up shakily. His legs are unsteady, week, and his arms feel like lead, his plate almost unbearably heavy. He puts away his dirty dishes almost silently. His quiet "good night" goes mostly unanswered, his mother just nods at him and his father still sits in icy silence.

His room feels sticky and hot. Brendon lies down, trying to calm down, breathe in and out, trying to quench the feeling of being suffocated, but he's just getting more and more upset. He knows his parents just want the best for him, but they want the best of their world, their values and their goals and Brendon ... Brendon wants entirely different things. He doesn't want to go on a mission, doesn't want to marry a nice girl and have a dozen babies. Or rather, he'd like to have the babies with someone else. Someone like Spencer and he's been trying hard not to even think about that and even harder not to ever act on any of his feelings. Sometimes he feels so obvious and out in the open, when he's trying to make up for the lack of hugs at home by climbing all over his bandmates. He tries to tell himself that Spencer's the victim more often just because he's way more cuddly than Ryan and way more likely to let Brendon have his way than either Ryan or Brent. It totally doesn't have anything to do with the way Spencer smells nicely and the way his smile lights up the room and the way Brendon's heart jumps when Spencer hugs him back.

It's like Pandora's box, now that he's started thinking about Spencer, he can't stop. He wants so much he can never ever have and right now he doesn't have the slightest inkling where to begin to fix the mess that is his life.

Then he hears steps coming down to his door and perhaps, he hopes, his parents have realised that they ask too much of him? He hears something being locked and it takes him a moment to comprehend it, to fully understand that his parents just locked him into his room. Brendon stares at the door, before he slowly gets up and tries the handle. The door doesn't open. On the other side of the door his father says: "This should give you enough time to wholly reconsider your actions and your words. I must admit, I expected better from you." Then he's gone and Brendon leans heavily against the door. He's still shaking (or again? he can't keep track of what's happening exactly) and something snaps. He either has the most brilliant idea in history or he's going to land himself straight in a camp for difficult teenagers.

Brendon grabs his favourite hoodie. While he puts it on, he stuffs all his homework into his backpack and dumps Ryan's notes and lyrics on top of it. Climbing out of his window is easier than he thought. He just hopes that none of the neighbours saw him and called his parents. Brendon sneaks around the house, mindful of the windows, so he crosses over the Lindemans' garden. They're thankfully on vacation. Then he's on the street, still in plain view of his parents' house, but in one minute he's at the next intersection.

Brendon doesn't stop walking until he's halfway to Spencer's and he needs a moment to catch his breath. He feels like he's laid bare in front of everyone, like there's a huge sign above his head proclaiming "I just ran away!" But he watches the people around him and they're doing painfully normal things. That woman there is grocery shopping and those teenagers there are waiting for someone to pick them up and the family across the street is going to the movies. For a moment Brendon feels surreal because his life just turned upside down.

Brendon suddenly finds himself in front of Spencer's house and he's not entirely sure how he's got there. His legs feel tired and like jelly, but the entire half an hour walk seems to have passed in an instant. His only thought was to get there, to get to Spencer, but now that he's here, he doesn't know what to do. He stands in their driveway--there's light in the living room and it's all too easy to picture the Smith family doing a movie night, spread out on their couches, laughing at the funny parts and crying at the sad ones, passing bowls with popcorn and other sweets around. Brendon knows because the other week they were having a sleep-over at Spencer's (hard-earned with extra chores and extra studying and being super careful about being polite and helpful and everything a good Mormon should be) and they had a movie night like that. Brendon was immensely jealous of the ease with which Spencer could ask his mom to make them more popcorn, without being told to make it himself or having to buy the nicety with being the Best Son Ever, and how his parents went out with the twins later on, to see a movie in the theatres, just so the boys could have their peace and quiet.

When the door opens, Brendon startles. Spencer's dad looks at him calmly, like Brendon suddenly turning up late at night (it must be close to 10 p.m. now) is nothing out of the ordinary. But he doesn't seem surprised in the least, just offers his hand. "Perhaps you better come inside."

It's warm inside and it's only now that Brendon realises how chilly it was outside, that he's actually cold, but it almost doesn't register about the numbness he feels. He's exhausted and a wreck and he doesn't know how to fix his life and. He just doesn't know.

Brendon stays in the front hall, while Spencer's dad goes into the living room. He thinks he should come up with an explanation, but his mind is blank. Brendon thinks he's maybe in shock. Then Spencer comes tearing out of the living room, with his mom following him. He looks at Brendon with wide, wide eyes and just like that Brendon's enveloped in a Spencer hug and if Brendon were a better person, he'd try to explain and calm things down, but at the moment he can just cling tightly to Spencer. He's warm and soft and smells like popcorn and soda and Brendon feels something clench tight in his chest. Brendon scrunches his eyes shut and his cheeks sting and it's only then that he realises that he's still got dried tears all over his face and he probably looks like a freak. He opens his mouth to say something, play it down despite the way he's got Spencer's shirt gripped tight in his hands, but the only thing that comes out is a sob and then Brendon starts crying again. He feels vaguely ashamed and embarrassed, but Spencer holds him tighter and makes soothing noises and. For the first time that evening Brendon really lets go.

Someone takes his backpack from him or tries to, because Brendon can't make himself let go of it. He feels Spencer shake his head and then they're alone. Brendon doesn't know how long they stand there, while Spencer holds him and Brendon cries and cries and cries. When he finally stops, his entire face feels swollen, he has a stupid headache and his eyes ache, but he feels relieved. He's tried to hang on for so long, tried not to let anyone know, and now at least he feels like he can finally tell.

Brendon keeps his head on Spencer's shoulder, although his shirt is wet and snotty. He can still smell Spencer underneath it. The exhaustion hits him full-force now--apparently crying takes more energy than he thought. By now he's pretty sure that if Spencer weren't holding him up, he'd just fall down on his face, unable to even break his fall with his hands. He lets Spencer tug him into the kitchen and shove him up onto a counter. Brendon's used to hopping onto them and watching Spencer while he gets them drinks or makes sandwiches. Now it seems to take an inhuman amount of effort and strength to get up there.

Spencer watches him with worried eyes, but he doesn't speak. He wets a dish clothes and gently cleans Brendon's face for him. It's nothing more than that, but it kind of makes Brendon want to cry again because he hasn't gotten many of these simple affectionate touches and they have the power to break him apart again. Spencer's put his backpack on the breakfast island and Brendon stares at it. Amidst the chaos in his mind, the thought that pops up first is that he'll never finish that English essay today.

His backpack looks oddly out of place in Spencer's mother's clean kitchen. Brendon feels out of place here, like he's infringing, trespassing, and it just adds to the hurt because he's just so out of depth here. Spencer's standing right in front of him, between Brendon's legs, and it's a somewhat compromising position, since Spencer's so close and he's still holding the dish cloth and perfunctorily wiping across Brendon's cheeks and Brendon wants. Brendon wants so much more than this. So he lets himself slump forward, lets Spencer catch him and rests his forehead against Spencer's shoulder. Spencer accommodates him, just wraps his arms around Brendon again. They stay like that for a felt eternity.

Then Spencer's mom comes into the kitchen and she doesn't even pause. She settles against the counter next to them and Brendon knows, knows he should be polite and acknowledge her, answer her questions, but he's so tired. He just wants to stay where he is. Gentle fingers comb through his hair and Brendon relaxes. "Honey, do your parents know you're here?" Spencer's mom asks him quietly, worry evident in her voice. Brendon shakes his head and he feels worn out, lead weighing him down. "I don't want to go back." When he hears his own voice, Brendon cringes. He's hoarse and his voice sounds like he's been eating glass. He doesn't sound a lot like himself. He's never going to be able to hit a tone, let alone hold it, and especially not those high tones and Ryan's going to kill him. Oddly enough, that feels less like a threat and more like a relief. Spencer's arms tighten around Brendon and Spencer's mom continues to move her fingers through his hair. But Brendon doesn't have the energy to fight anymore, so when Spencer's mom asks him why, it all comes pouring out. He tiredly explains his daily to do list, starting with seminary and ending with chores and homework, lists the rules he must obey to be allowed the least bit of freedom. Spencer's embrace is tight enough to hurt and his breath hitches every now and then. By the time he's done, Brendon feels even more tired, mentally and physically exhausted and he just wants to sleep. He just needs a break.

He doesn't realise he's said that last thing out loud until Spencer's mom presses a kiss against his temple and murmurs: "You'll get one, I promise." Brendon's been promised so many things by his parents that he finds it hard to believe any adults now. But Spencer's mom looks at him earnestly and Brendon feels vaguely hopeful. "But I still have to call your parents. They'll worry if they can't find you." Brendon shakes his head. "I don't think they'll check my room until morning. They locked me in, so I guess they won't consider me being gone."

For the first time since Spencer's dad brought him in, Spencer's mom looks honestly thrown. "They ... locked you into your room?" Brendon can't quite read the emotion behind her voice, but it's not something particularly good. He nods shakily and Spencer's mom presses her lips tightly together. Brendon's almost afraid for a moment, but then she cards her fingers through his hair again, a gentle, calming motion, and he realises it's not him who she's angry with. He feels abruptly relieved at the notion that other adults, other _parents_ , do not approve of his parents' actions. The notion that his parents did something wrong still makes Brendon sad, but if he's entirely honest, it's been so hard to justify their rules and actions to himself lately that he’s not surprised by it. "Well, then we can afford to wait until morning."

Spencer carefully moves away to let Brendon hop down from the counter. "Come on, let's go to bed. Tomorrow's a school night."

His mom is looking at Brendon's backpack. "I brought my books for tomorrow," Brendon says. "And some clothes." He can't remember whether he packed one of his sleep shirts, though. Or underwear. Spencer takes the backpack and hefts it over his shoulder. "You're all set then." Brendon shakes his head, because he definitely didn't bring his toothbrush, what with it being in the bathroom, on the other side of the lock. But Spencer still takes his hand and tugs him out of the kitchen, up the stairs and into Spencer's bedroom. He doesn't let Brendon help with setting up the air mattress, just pushes him onto his bed and tells him to stay. Brendon's too tired to contradict him.

Spencer sets up everything with sure, practised motions. Brendon did know that Ryan's staying over a lot, that there even was a set-up for impromptu night guests, but it doesn't hit home until now, the way that Spencer's parents didn't react like taking care of stray teenagers and offering them a place to sleep is anything out of the ordinary. Above all, the notion that the Smiths have practise at this comforts Brendon. He feels safe here, even if he knows that he has to go back. For the moment, he's here and he can stay.

"I'm going to pick up some clean sheets," Spencer says. Brendon manages a nod. He's so tired and his eyes are heavy. He decides to just rest them for a moment. He doesn't even notice falling asleep until Spencer gently shakes him awake. Brendon's curled up on himself on top of Spencer's sheets, sniffing his pillow, and normally he'd be embarrassed, but he can't bring himself to care enough to get upset. "Hey," Spencer says quietly. "There's a new toothbrush in the medicine cabinet, left side." Brendon nods, but his limbs are all relaxed and heavy and it's difficult to move. Spencer pulls him onto his feet and Brendon admires his drummer arms, not for the first time. He only realises he's said that out loud when he notices Spencer's smirk. "Go wash yourself." Spencer gently pushes him toward the door. "And don't fall asleep and hit your head. Those head wounds are a mess to clean up." Spencer's smile and the soft tone of his voice belie his words, though.

Somehow Brendon survives his ten minutes in the bathroom. He's impressed himself because he can't remember any of it. But his mouth tastes minty and his face doesn't sting anymore, so he guesses he's actually done all required hygiene rituals. He stumbles back to Spencer's room. Spencer's already dressed for bed in a wide shirt and long pyjama bottoms. He holds out a similar outfit to Brendon, who takes the clothes without realising.

"I looked through your stuff," Spencer says, "but you didn't pack any sleeping clothes. Those should fit you." He blushes a bit and Brendon really wishes he were awake enough to make sense of that. Of course, anything of Spencer's fits him. Where Spencer is soft, Brendon is all bones and awkwardness. Spencer disappears to the bathroom.

Brendon doesn't mean to, but he falls asleep on Spencer's bed again. He just sits down to pull on the pyjama pants because he's not co-ordinated enough anymore to manage that without falling over. Then Brendon decides to just keep sitting there until Spencer comes back, since he doesn't want to make Spencer crawl over Brendon on the air mattress when he comes back.

When Brendon feels someone tug on his hand, he needs a moment to orient himself and figure out where he is. Spencer's frowning down at him, concern written all over his face, and Brendon struggles for alertness because he doesn't want Spencer to be worried. Brendon just needs a good night's sleep, that is all.

He forces himself to sit up and move down to the air mattress. "Sorry," he murmurs. He hears Spencer sigh and then the sheets rustle as they both get into their respective beds. Spencer turns off the light. Brendon falls asleep pretty much instantly.

Brendon startles awake in the middle of the night. He hasn't had that particular nightmare for a couple of weeks and he's been glad for it. He was locked in a small room, with the walls coming closer and closer. It doesn't take an approved shrink to figure out what it means, but knowing that doesn't help Brendon. It doesn't help him fix the clusterfuck that is his life currently.

"Hey." Brendon jumps when he hears Spencer's voice. "Are you all right?"

Brendon nods shakily, until he realises that it's pitch dark in Spencer's room. "Yeah," he manages to get out. It doesn't sound very convincing. Brendon jumps again when a hand touches his shoulder. But Spencer's hand is warm and he lets it slide down Brendon's arm until he can reach Brendon's hand. Spencer clasps their hands and the simple contact calms Brendon down.

But then Spencer starts tugging. "C'mon, come up here." Brendon protests. "But Spencer, we can't." He stocks, unsure how to continue. He knows what he wants, but he's been told it's a sin so often. Spencer doesn't give up, though, he pulls on his arm again and Brendon only has this much self-control. He really wants to cuddle with Spencer, inappropriate feelings and Bible verses be damned.

Brendon crawls up into Spencer's bed and it's hot under the covers. Spencer's a furnace and he smells like his shampoo and something uniquely Spencer. However reluctant Brendon was just a minute ago, now he burrows into that warmth and lets his head rest on Spencer's shoulder. Spencer wraps his arms around him and Brendon feels assured enough that he snakes his arm around Spencer and holds tightly on to him. It's sweet and chaste. Brendon feels every muscle in his body relax and he sighs sleepily against Spencer's shirt. Sleep catches up with him again and just before he drops off again, he feels Spencer press a kiss against his temple and murmur: "Everything's going to be all right. You'll be okay, Bren."

Brendon can't but believe him. It's a comforting thought. In the morning, he hopes, everything will be better.

When Brendon wakes up, he feels warm and relaxed. There's an alarm ringing somewhere, but Brendon's still too sleep-drunk to pinpoint the noise and it doesn't like his alarm clock anyway. Whoever's this is, will get it, and Brendon just keeps on lying there and burrowing deeper into the covers. Normally he's an early riser, but the past weeks have taken their toll on him and he hasn't slept this soundly in a while. He heaves a contented sigh.

Then Spencer makes a frustrated noise underneath Brendon and he jostles Brendon, when he leans over to hit his snooze button. In a flash Brendon remembers last night and the state he turned up in at Spencer's and, oh my god, he's _lying_ on Spencer. Snuggling him, even. Brendon feels his cheeks burn.

But Spencer just sleepily pats Brendon's shoulder. "Did you sleep okay?", he asks, a yawn splitting his face. Brendon nods against Spencer's neck where he's hiding his face. "'kay, then. We have ten more minutes, but if we need to get up at the next alarm, or we won't get you to school on time." Spencer keeps holding Brendon, his hand lazily stroking up and down Brendon's back and it's relaxing. It also turns Brendon the hell on because in the night his shirt rucked up and Spencer keeps sliding his fingers over the sliver of exposed skin ad Brendon's a teenage boy, okay? He wakes up with morning wood every day anyway, even without the temptation of teenaged drummers touching him.

Brendon kind of wishes they wouldn't have to get up at all, that they could just stay here in their cocoon of warmth and forget all about school and commitments and problems. He would have betted that only a couple of minutes had passed, when the alarm goes blaring again. They take turns in the bathroom and then they traipse down the stairs. Brendon can smell coffee and toast, and his stomach grumbles loudly. Spencer laughs at him and taunts him, as they walk into the kitchen. He goes suddenly silent and when Brendon clears the corner and can see into the kitchen, he realises why. Brendon's parents are sitting at the dining table, their faces grim and closed-off, while Spencer's mom bustles around behind them, preparing breakfast. She seems angry and Brendon feels the old ball of dread in his stomach again.

His parents are looking at him with sad, disappointed eyes and they look so out of place here in Spencer's kitchen. Brendon returns their look, but he keeps his face carefully neutral. He guesses he's already in big trouble; there's no need to make his situation even worse.

"We were worried about you." His father's voice is hard and there's not one ounce of forgiveness to be found in it. It makes Brendon cringe inwardly. "We discovered your empty room and." His father interrupts himself and Brendon is strangely fascinating. He knows this can't lead anywhere good, but it's almost as if this didn't involve Brendon at all, as if he was just an outsider looking on to this scene. His dad just looks so mad. "You broke the rules, Brendon."

Brendon shrugs, because, yeah, he did. There's no reputing that. His father takes a deep breath. His mom is so pale, but she's quiet, only looking at Brendon, and he doesn't know what to make of that. "Brendon, as long as you live in my house, you will have to obey those rules. You've intentionally and carelessly broken so many by now that I don't know whether I can trust you at all." His father pauses, looking at Brendon as if he were waiting for some sort of acceptance, and Brendon feels confused, but he nods. Next to him, Spencer's straightening up, his posture tight and tense. Spencer's mom has turned to look at Brendon's parents and the look in her eyes is unreadable. "If you can't abide by those rules, I don't think you should come back."

At first his words don't make sense to Brendon, but when he gets it, gets what his father is doing right now, the bottom drops out of his stomach. He feels dizzy and hot. He tries to speak, but when he opens his mouth, nothing won't come out. Thoughts are running rampant in his head, but the one that's screaming the loudest is that he can't go back. He can't go back and have to endure even more punishments to make up for this faux pas and to give up his band and his friends.

Spencer's taking his hands and Brendon grips back tight. He can feel the small bones moving under Spencer's skin and somewhere he realises he must be hurting Spencer, but he feels like he's going to explode if he doesn't hold on tightly to something. Part of him wants to kneel in front of his parents and beg them to forgive him, but the same part that tells him he's squeezing Spencer's hand too tightly also tells him that it's just going to be more of what he's had to deal with before.

"You should think about that today. I'd like to have your decision by tonight." Brendon's dad gets up and his mom follows swiftly. They bid a terse good bye to Spencer's mom, who's standing in front of the oven, gripping her spatula so tightly her knuckles are all white, and then they're gone.

Brendon stands here and he's still holding on to Spencer's hand, when suddenly he's enveloped in someone's arms and it takes him a moment to realise that Spencer's mom is hugging him gently. "We'll figure something out, okay, hon?" Brendon closes his eyes tightly and nods. He doesn't want to think that the emotion he's feeling the most right now is relief.

Brendon wraps his other arm around Spencer's mom and hangs on tightly. He's squeezing Spencer's hand so hard it must hard, but he's still sad when Spencer lets go off his hand. Until Spencer hugs him from behind. He's warm and solid against Brendon's back. Slowly what his parents said and the implications are sinking in and ... Brendon feels distant, like this isn't happening to him. He's wondering whether this is real, whether he's just dreaming, what's happening at all.

That feeling stays with Brendon all day. At some he has breakfast (Spencer's mom places a piece of toast on his plate, which Brendon eats half of) and he goes to school (Spencer's mom drops off first the twins, then Spencer and lastly Brendon). He goes to class, but they pass in a daze. He knows he answers questions when he's asked directly, but mostly he can't remember the day at all.

When school's out and Brendon's cleaning out his locker for his usual catching up or studying in advance marathon on the weekend, that's when it really hits him. He doesn't know whether he can go home. His chest goes all tight and he's breathing somewhat funny. Brendon stares intently at the contents of his locker (a blank notebook, his Chemistry textbook, some sheet music that he's picked up for something or another) and tries really, really hard not to fall apart. He closes his locker without taking anything out.

Brendon feels caged in, the other students around him talking loudly about their weekend plans--"Is your mom going to pick you up?" - "Nah, my sister's gonna do it."--and suddenly Brendon can't breathe at all. He looks down at his hands, sees them shaking and thinks, _privacy, I need to go somewhere quiet_. He only finds the boys' bathroom through sheer dumb luck. It's thankfully empty and Brendon chooses the very last stall. He locks the door behind him, carefully lowers the lid with his (shaking, oh God, his hands are shaking so much) hand and sits down. He half-remembers some advice to put your head between your knees (his brain-voice sounds suspiciously like Spencer). Every movement feels slow, like he's surrounded by molasses. Breathing is easier once he gets his head done, but the shaking just becomes worse. Brendon wraps his arms around his thighs, pressing his face against his knees, as his entire body is shaking badly. He feels sobs bubbling up in his chest, trying to find a way out, and the only thing about not breathing that well is that he can't get enough air in to get them out.

Brendon squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think. Or not to think. He feels alone.

At some point the shaking becomes better and stops entirely. Brendon feels drained, worse than after a 5 mile run in gym class or a practising marathon (Ryan once kept him for six hours, just after Brendon'd taken over singing). His head feels stuffed with all the crying he didn't do, his entire body hurts and he's so fucking exhausted. And he still doesn't know where to go. Brendon stares blankly at the tiles in front of him. He needs to figure this out, but it's like his brain has gone offline. He can't think, it's all jumbled up.

It's probably good that at this point his cell phone chimes with a new message. _where are you? waiting in front of school_. It's Spencer. Brendon reads the message, doesn't understand it and reads it again. He's still frowning at the text, when his phone rings. He's so startled he almost drops it on the floor (which would have been seriously eww).

"Hi?" Brendon almost doesn't recognise his own voice. It's starting to be a problem. On the other side of the line, there's just the sound of breathing for a moment, radio music playing quietly and a faraway conversation filtering through. "Brendon?" It's Spencer. Of course, it's Spencer. "Yes, I'm." Brendon stops. He doesn't know how to finish that sentence? I'm okay? Not okay? Trying not to die from not-breathing?

Spencer hums. "Okay, this is it, I'm coming in. Where are you? Like, where in your school?"

"Bathroom," Brendon answers. He's kind of very confused. Why's Spencer coming in? Where is Spencer even? "Are you ... are you at my school?" Spencer sighs frustratedly into the phone. "Yes, Brendon, we are. What did you think, that we'd let you go back to them?" The emphasis on _them_ sounds like Spencer's talking about serial murderers and Brendon wants to protest, that's his parents, his family, but he can't get the words out. He hears pieces of a conversation between Spencer and someone else, then a door opening and closing. Spencer stays on the phone the whole time, until he's found Brendon--Brendon's kind of shitty at giving directions especially since he can hardly remember the general layout of the school, let alone guide someone through. Spencer ends up asking a random teacher who's passing him by for the boys' bathroom. Brendon would feel ashamed, if he had the energy.

Spencer only hangs up when he's right in front of Brendon's stall and knocking carefully at the door. "Hey, could you unlock this?" Brendon does. The metal of the lock feels ice-cold under his fingers and when the door opens, he feels blinded by the sudden neon light. After that, however, he feels warm and safe because Spencer pulls him up into a hug. "You didn't really think we'd just ... leave you like that?" Spencer's whispering, but his voice still sounds tight and sad. "Brendon, Mom told you--we'll figure this out. We'll help you, okay?" Brendon can only nod and hang on tightly to Spencer. _Please_ , he wants to say, _please never let go of me_. Spencer lets him cling for a couple more minutes, then he starts moving them. He watches with pursed lips as Brendon collects his textbooks and stuff and even carries Brendon's backpack. Brendon would totally mind, but he still feels confused and in a daze and a bit like he's out of his mind; he idly wonders whether this is what going crazy feels like.

Spencer throws his backpack into the trunk and Brendon starts to climb into the back with the twins, but Spencer pulls him back and pushes him toward the passenger door. "You look a bit green," he says. "It's probably better if you sit front."

Sitting there also has the advantage that both Spencer and his mom can hang on to Brendon's hands. The atmosphere in the car is subdued, so different from what Brendon's used to. The twins are normally chattering away at a neck-breaking speed, Spencer's teasing them like big brothers do, and their parents are adding to the general air of contentment and laughter and just ... love. Brendon feels guilty that everyone's focusing on him now--he's so often been the focus in his family, usually with a negative touch. He was the problem child, too hyper and too active, too smart at music and not smart enough at other stuff. Even when he got praise, it was always with a "but ...". Perhaps, Brendon muses, that's why he likes being in a band so much. He gets to be the center of the attention and nobody minds because he's supposed to want them to look at him.

But Spencer's holding his hand tightly, even shushing the giggling twins, and Brendon feels like he can breathe again.

He watches the streets they go through. They're familiar in the way all the streets in Summerlin are, the way they all look similar and have that suburban, but still Vegas feeling about them. He thinks about Spencer's next door neighbour, the hot stripper with the dirty laugh who winks at them when they pass her on the way to practise, and the Smiths, who could pass as the picture-perfect family, and Ryan who just got the notice of a full scholarship to ULV and is feverishly awaiting graduation, just so he can finally get out of his dad's house. Brendon's always thought that's sad, the way Ryan doesn't think of it as home. His chest hurts when he thinks of home.

He remembers the squeaky board in the hallway that you had to avoid if you woke up thirsty at night and wanted to get a glass of water without waking everyone up. The banister his brothers dared him to slide down. The part of the garden where they put up the trampoline, in safe distance from the house, but surrounded by grass all around (Brendon fell off it a lot in the beginning, so much his parents had contemplated either forbidding him to use it or to buy a bunch of rubber mats to put around it). He thinks of dinners, Thanksgivings, Christmas, the house full of his siblings and their respective families, families like Brendon was expected to have one, too. It hurts so much.

They stop suddenly and Brendon realises they're in the Smiths' driveway. He lets Spencer tug him out of the car and into the house. Spencer carries Brendon's backpack, which is endearing, and if Brendon were a better person, he'd take it from Spencer, carry his load, but he feels occupied enough with just putting one foot in front of the other. The twins disappear upstairs, talking loudly about ... Brendon doesn't know what.

He wonders whether it's normal, the way he feels so disconnected to everything around him. But then Spencer puts down their backpacks on the breakfast island and pulls Brendon in for a hug (again; Brendon's totally getting spoiled for Spencer hugs) and Brendon's breathing hitches again. He hides his face against Spencer's neck, letting Spencer hold him up, because Brendon's supposed to be home. He's supposed to hurry to his room, throw on what he calls his yard work outfit and start with his chores, so he can go to practise tomorrow.

Brendon feels like a complete loser as he falls apart in Spencer's arms. Again. Spencer probably thinks Brendon's a total crybaby. But he just holds him, pats his head and doesn't say anything. It's comforting and at least Brendon calms down relatively soon this time. Spencer's mom puts a steaming cup of tea in front of him as they sit down at the kitchen table. Brendon's able to muster a weak smile. Spencer's mom smiles back, but it's a sad one.

"Brendon, I think we need to talk."

Brendon nods warily. He doesn't really want to. He knows he has to figure out something. Going back means giving up what is basically his life. He doesn't know what not going back means yet. He says at much. Spencer's mom looks at him. "Well, you can stay here right now. Until ... this has been sorted out."

Brendon thinks she means until his parents have calmed down and let him come back on his own terms. He doesn't think that's gonna happen, though.

"Would you like to call them? Just so they know you're staying here?" If anything, Brendon's still been raised to be polite and he thinks it would be really shitty to leave his parents in the dark, even with the way they've been treating him. He nods. They leave him alone in the kitchen, giving him privacy, but the door to the hallway is still open.

The phone seems to ring an eternity. Brendon knows his mother is home, though, she only works half-days on Friday, same as Mrs Smith. When she finally picks up, she sounds breathless, like she had run to the phone. "Urie residence."

Brendon swallows heavily. "Hi, Mom." The line's silent for a moment. "Hello, Brendon." She sounds cautious which hurts. It's not like Brendon's doing all this to intentionally hurt his parents. He immediately feels like the blame's put on him solely again. In that moment he realises what it would be like to go home. More of this, more things he would have to make up, more trust he would have to restore by being the perfect little Mormon boy. "I'm at the Smiths." His voice sounds raspy, like grovel, and he half-wonders what he'd sound like singing with a voice like this. "They ... they are letting me stay here. For the moment." Brendon can't take advantage of their hospitality forever. The Smiths have three children of their own, four if you count Ryan, who's already staying over a lot, and Brendon can't force himself on them, too. Although he's pretty sure they wouldn't mind. "I just thought you'd like to know if, y'know. You should know where I am." He doesn't add, _because I'm your kid and I'm not home_.

"I take it you are not willing to come back?" Brendon has to bite back a sharp reply. He wants to, wants to go home so badly, to beg his parents for forgiveness, because this, whatever he's doing now, is scary, but he can't. He can't do that and still be Brendon. Still be allowed to be Brendon. "I have stuff I need to figure out," he say instead. "It might be better if I don't do that at home." His mom is silent. "You know you could just as well go to the Johnsons." Brendon grits his teeth. He definitely does not want to go to his bishop's house. In fact, he wants to stay really far away from him. "I'll stay here." His mom sighs. "Brendon, you know how temptation works. Don't let yourself-" "Mom."

Brendon has to take a deep breath. "I'll. I'll call you later again. I ... I have to get my clothes and stuff." "I see." She sounds closed off and Brendon needs to get off the phone now before he does something stupid. "I'll see you then." "Bye, Brendon." There's a click and then the phone line is chirping at Brendon. He ends the call and then puts his head down on the kitchen table. The surface is cool against his forehead and it settles him a bit.

Someone puts a hand on his neck, squeezing gently. It's Spencer's mom, looking at him with kind eyes. Brendon swallows, several times, until he can trust his voice again. "I think I need an apartment." He feels horrible.

Spencer's mom sits down next to him, puts her arm around his shoulders and squeezes. It's easy to lean against. "We'll figure this out," she tells him in a self-assured voice and Brendon hopes she's right. He's all out of hope and energy and anything good really. He just feels empty and overwhelmed.

They stay like that until it's time for the twins' dance class, loudly announced by them running down the stairs, bringing out their gym bags and then up again for everything they've forgotten to pack. Spencer plays video games with Brendon, although Brendon can't concentrate for shit. He's not at all surprised, when Ryan knocks half an hour later.

"Brent's got an appointment at the dentist's, but he'll come right after," Ryan says. He takes over Brendon's controller, while Brendon curls up on the couch and watches them battling at Mario Kart. Spencer's winning, and Ryan's shit-talking him, but Spencer's the best at Mario Kart and  he just gives as much back to Ryan as he takes. It's hilarious, Brendon notes, but mostly it feels comforting, normal. He falls asleep while listening to their voices.

When Brent comes, Brendon startles awake. Someone's put a blanket on him and he's hot now, but his limbs feel heavy like lead and he doesn't really want to move. "Hey," Spencer says right next to him, "go back to sleep." The next time Brendon wakes, it's already dark. His bandmates are spread in front of the TV, watching MTV. Spencer's leaning against the couch just to the left of Brendon, Ryan's lounging on the other couch and Brent's lying on his side between them.

Brendon stays silent, just breathing in and out without anyone clamouring for his attention and giving him yet more tasks to do. He catches sight of Spencer's neck. Spencer's hair's getting long, his mom threatened that morning that he was going to get a haircut whether he wanted it or not, but he's brushed it back behind his ears, exposing them. Every time he shifts, to grab his soda or gesture at Ryan, it swishes back and forth, revealing little glances at Spencer's skin. Brendon doesn't really think when he reaches out and moves his finger around Spencer's ear shell.

Spencer goes still, but then he leans more firmly against the couch. He keeps talking to Ryan and Brendon lets his finger slide until it's just over Spencer's jugular. He can feel his pulse against his fingertip, a heavy, steady beat. Brendon feels uncomfortably aroused, but it's not enough to make him stop. It does, however, make him fall asleep again (Brendon thinks that soon he'll have slept enough for three teenage boys).

The next time Brendon wakes, he's alone. He sits up, confused, the blanket sliding down and onto the floor. There are voices in the dining room. Everyone's eating dinner, but when Spencer's mom catches sight of Brendon, she smiles. "Hey there, sleepyhead. We didn't want to wake you, but we've just started."

Brendon finds a seat between Brent and Crystal. Dinner's a jovial affair, the twins reporting every little bit of gossip from their school and dance class, while the boys are talking about their music. Nobody mentions Brendon's problems and it's relaxing. At least until dinner's over and Spencer's parents give each other a significant look. Brendon feels his stomach sink, even before Spencer's dad says: "Could we talk to you for a minute?" He nods.

Spencer doesn't look entirely happy when they send them all out of the room. Brendon wishes he could have stayed, just for a little bit of support, until he reminds himself that so far Spencer's parents have only been supporting him, too. Spencer's dad looks at him seriously. "Ginger told me that you want to look for an apartment. Are you sure about that? You can stay here as long as you want." Spencer's mom nods. "We still have that guest room we use so rarely. It wouldn't be any bother at all."

Brendon's quiet. He wants to take their offer because moving out for real is scary. Brendon's only savings are meant for his mission, with maybe a little bit left over for college. He'll have to get a job. Pay his own bills. But he really doesn't want to take advantage of the pity the Smiths must be feeling for him. "I ... thank you, but. I think." Brendon stops and takes a deep breath. "Yes, I think I need ... to be on my own."

Spencer's dad nods, doesn't try to make Brendon change his opinion, and it's weird to have a set of parents in front of him who accept what he says and don't try to make him see the wrong of his ways. He half-expects them to go back on everything they've said. "You'll have to find a job. At least stay until you've got enough to cover the security deposit and for the first three months, okay? It'll be hard enough to juggle high school and a job." He falls silent for a moment. "But we want you to know that you can always come to us, no matter what you need. You might want to be on your own, but you don't have to do it all alone."

Brendon's moving before he realises he even got up and then he's hugging them both tightly. They hug him back just as tightly. "Now go back to your friends," Spencer's mom says lightly. "Spencer's surely wondering what we're doing with you."

Spencer does not look worried. Spencer looks a cross between pissed off and trying to look aloof. Which, really, just means that he's worried like fuck. Brendon drops onto the couch next to him. "So?" Brendon stays still and closes his eyes. "I guess I'm moving out." Spencer's tense next to him. "Fuck." There's not a lot Brendon can answer to that. He shrugs and sighs. Then suddenly Spencer pulls him on his lap and hugs him, squeezing so hard it almost hurts. Brendon holds on, but then Ryan's arms come around him and Brent's joining their hug pile, and Brendon ... Brendon doesn't know what he feels, in this mix of relief and sorrow and fear and hope. He just hangs on to his bandmates and hopes that it'll be all worth it.  



End file.
